I got a phone call from my brother last week, and as always we started talking about Rugby. For some reason we got talking on my lad, and whether he'd play Rugby when he was older. Now thats a toughie, on one hand I loved Rugby League, but reality is I've got a body of a pensioner a good 30 years before my time because of it. I thought that my Mum must have had the same thoughts when I was a kid, whether it was wise to let her chubby little lad go and have a rumble with a load of over lads for over an hour.
My brother had always been good a player, the sod was one of those annoying gifted players who whenever he gambled it would come off. He even gave himself his own nicknames "Captain Marvel", "Cape Wearing Centre" all the usual shite that you have to put up with when someone is naturally athletic. However I was not, my only true talent was the ability to shovel food down my mouth and occasionally I'd be able to fart on demand but that was about it.
So when I started playing Rugby League I was not what the coaches were probably hoping would be waddling over. Not helped by the fact I was playing for a team about 3 years older than me because there was no squad in my age group. So after a couple of training sessions and spending most of a Saturday morning trying to put a gumshield in mouth, I trundled off to my inevitable arse kicking.
The game I came on against was probably the best game for me, because the other team were complete crap. I came on at about 65 minutes on the left wing, we were about 70 points ahead at this stage and the aim was for me to get a few minutes under my belt with doing anything stupid or better still - breaking anything.
That was all going well until I looked at my opposite number, now I'm was no expert but I'm guessing the guy facing me was not a winger. He was as wide as he was tall (and he was fecking tall) and he looked more like 23 rather than 13. Their game plan was obvious, put the prop at wing and run at the little fat kid, fooking brilliant plan in fairness. They ran in 4 tries like that, and I must have looked like a complete retard trying to wrap my arms around the other lads legs. This went on until the rest of my team got a bit pissed off and decided to clean tubster out with the usual mental tackling that our 9 was famous for (his Dad used to give him 50p for each tackle until he put in 65 tackles in a game and he bankrupt him).
Tubster limped out the game, and we managed to run in a few more tries in the last few minutes to save my face. I look back at that game now, and I still remember it vividly, like a shit movie you've seen, like Megashark vs Giant Squid, it just stays in your head. But, in all my years since, I can't remember ever being dominated like that in a game again. The return leg 4 months later at their ground was infact an even bigger drubbing for "tubsters" team and I played a larger chunk in that game without doing anything stupid I even remember putting in some decent tackles.
So although I'll be bricking myself when it comes to my poor sprogs first game, I know in a few months he'll slowly start becoming that perfect balance of stupid and heroic that you get in a Rugby player. I look forward to that conversation when he comes back and goes "Dad I played shit today, I feel like such a moron" so I can tell him my story of how I started out as awful and years and years later I became "not-crap."
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Monday 30 May 2011
Tuesday 24 May 2011
State of Origin Special - Derby Days
I made a promise that in 24 hours if I got over 300 views I'd post this earlier than planned. So cheers to everyone who's read my blog and for the guys and girls who've left me decent comments on twitter (@4thchoicecentre) its appreciatted.
So anyway, the State of Origin is tonight and my skyplus is all ready to record whats always been one of the best games. But why are games like this always better, why is Wigan vs St Helens always far better than Bradford vs Hull? There's something about derby's, the fact it gets your blood boiling, there's so much more at stake than just points. Call it what you want - bragging rights/pride/respect, whatever it is it makes players want to smash each other to pieces and its bloody entertaining to watch.
So I'm going to share with you three of my memories (or whats not been knocked out of me) of Derby Days I've played over the last 20 or so years of Amateur Rugby League, feel free to leave your comments at the bottom of your derby matches:
1. I had just started playing open age Rugby moving up from Junior and to be honest I was really enjoying it. I was playing out on the wing and the team I was playing for was a really good crack. Half way through the season we went to our local derby match away from home. Apparently one of our forwards used to play for them, which made matters worse. We pitched up and started getting changed, the floor was wet but it was chucking it down so we just thought it was because of that. It was only when one of the lads picked up his bag and smelt it that we figured out what it was........ The dirty gits had decided to piss all over the away changing rooms just before we arrived. They were laughing their heads off when we walked out to warm up.
2. When I was kid I used to play in the same team as my brother because there was no team my age. So I was again out on the wing as possibly the smallest player in the league. We went to a team in Manchester to play a local derby. It was minus 16, mid winter and there was about a foot of snow, we played anyway. One of the biggest problems was no one was tackling properly because we were all so frozen. Unlucky for my brother at full back, who must have made about 40 one on one tackles because the rest of us were too cold to tackle. Finally when we got back on the attack, our kid runs the ball in only to get high shotted. He stayed on his feet and kept going, only to run into another forearm, finally a third forward came flying in and nearly took his head clean off. That was the end of his game, although he still reminds me he put in more tackles than anyone else before getting knocked out.
3. Finally my last Derby memory involved the worst fighting I'd ever been in. I was only about 13 at the time, and for some reason the match turned ugly very early. The main instigator was a gobby little scrum half on the opposition who continually would go in for sly digs. Dropping knees, scratching, eye gouging etc etc. Throughout the match there must have been 18 individual punch ups, in the end the ref called time early. As usual the home team creates a tunnel with its players at the end of the game to clap the other team through, a nice way to end the game. However when the little scrum half from the other team came through last, we closed the tunnel at both ends and decided to all dive in on the wind up merchant. However whilst we were lumping ten bells out of their scrum half, none of us had noticed that the rest of his team had decided to gang up on our Captain who by now had pegged it across three football fields trying to get away.
Thanks again for taking the time to read through my blog, feel free to leave your comments at the bottom with your derby day matches. The blog will go out weekly every Monday, with any special ones going out again whenever I can skive off work long enough to write it!
So anyway, the State of Origin is tonight and my skyplus is all ready to record whats always been one of the best games. But why are games like this always better, why is Wigan vs St Helens always far better than Bradford vs Hull? There's something about derby's, the fact it gets your blood boiling, there's so much more at stake than just points. Call it what you want - bragging rights/pride/respect, whatever it is it makes players want to smash each other to pieces and its bloody entertaining to watch.
So I'm going to share with you three of my memories (or whats not been knocked out of me) of Derby Days I've played over the last 20 or so years of Amateur Rugby League, feel free to leave your comments at the bottom of your derby matches:
1. I had just started playing open age Rugby moving up from Junior and to be honest I was really enjoying it. I was playing out on the wing and the team I was playing for was a really good crack. Half way through the season we went to our local derby match away from home. Apparently one of our forwards used to play for them, which made matters worse. We pitched up and started getting changed, the floor was wet but it was chucking it down so we just thought it was because of that. It was only when one of the lads picked up his bag and smelt it that we figured out what it was........ The dirty gits had decided to piss all over the away changing rooms just before we arrived. They were laughing their heads off when we walked out to warm up.
2. When I was kid I used to play in the same team as my brother because there was no team my age. So I was again out on the wing as possibly the smallest player in the league. We went to a team in Manchester to play a local derby. It was minus 16, mid winter and there was about a foot of snow, we played anyway. One of the biggest problems was no one was tackling properly because we were all so frozen. Unlucky for my brother at full back, who must have made about 40 one on one tackles because the rest of us were too cold to tackle. Finally when we got back on the attack, our kid runs the ball in only to get high shotted. He stayed on his feet and kept going, only to run into another forearm, finally a third forward came flying in and nearly took his head clean off. That was the end of his game, although he still reminds me he put in more tackles than anyone else before getting knocked out.
3. Finally my last Derby memory involved the worst fighting I'd ever been in. I was only about 13 at the time, and for some reason the match turned ugly very early. The main instigator was a gobby little scrum half on the opposition who continually would go in for sly digs. Dropping knees, scratching, eye gouging etc etc. Throughout the match there must have been 18 individual punch ups, in the end the ref called time early. As usual the home team creates a tunnel with its players at the end of the game to clap the other team through, a nice way to end the game. However when the little scrum half from the other team came through last, we closed the tunnel at both ends and decided to all dive in on the wind up merchant. However whilst we were lumping ten bells out of their scrum half, none of us had noticed that the rest of his team had decided to gang up on our Captain who by now had pegged it across three football fields trying to get away.
Thanks again for taking the time to read through my blog, feel free to leave your comments at the bottom with your derby day matches. The blog will go out weekly every Monday, with any special ones going out again whenever I can skive off work long enough to write it!
Monday 23 May 2011
My Last Ever Game
Sometimes its easier to start at the end, and in my case the end was my last ever Rugby League match. I've been playing Rugby since I was 8, my Brother had been playing it for a while and I was naff at footy so I decided to give it a go. I kept playing as long as I could, whenever I could. I was never a great player, I occassionally had great matches but this would normally only last 2-3 games before I'd be average or below sometimes.
I'll share with everyone my experiences of Rugby League at the grass roots level, where its at its best and sometimes at its bloodiest. I've had some cracking laughs over the years as well as some down right shite moments to boot. However I'll speak it from my point of view, from how I saw it, whether people agree or disagree this is how I saw the sport and in particular the guys I played with and against.
So enough bleating this was the last time I ever strapped on my boots and went out to play the sport I love.
I'd decided over the summer to give winter Rugby once last chance, I'd played the last couple of seasons in the summer and had not particularly enjoyed it. So I thought I'd go out find a new team and go and play for them in the winter, someone really low down where I could just pitch up and chuck a ball about. I'd been to one training session with this team and I'd decided to play at 6 or 7. I was too old to play in the backs anymore, well actually thats bollocks reality was I too slow to play in the backs by this time and I was too small to be a forward.
I turned up at the meeting point on Saturday, got myself my usual Lucozade and jelly beans and waited in the pub for them to name the team. With about 25 lads they knocked it down to 17 and told me I was playing 9 for the game. A little bit confused as I'd never said I'd played 9 before and most of the forwards hadnt been to the training session I'd be at. But sod it, I wasn't there to be technical I just wanted a game.
We were playing away so a few of the lads jumped in the car with me and we all set off. About 10 minutes in everyone pulled in for some petrol and all the lads jumped out and went inside to grab some scran. A sat down on the bonnet of my car and just started doing the usual rubbish I'd be taught about concentrating on the game etc. About 15 minutes later we've still not set off, so I ambled over to the coach and asked him when we were setting off, we were already cutting it tight for kick off and now it was starting to take the piss. At this point I turned around and looked back at my car to see two of the lads stood next to it having a smoke!!! "Oi nobheads are you mental, you're in a petrol station." So right next to my car the pair of them did the most sensible thing and dropped them on the floor to stamp them out. Feck me I cringed waiting for everything to explode, how I didn't tish myself I don't know.
Crisis past everyone got chased back to the cars to head off to someplace in St Helens for our away game. As I thought we arrived with just enough time to throw our kit on and get out onto the pitch. I've never had a pre-match routine and days like this were the reason I don't. There's been too many times I've turned up at an away game with just enough time to tuck my bollocks into a pair of shorts and run out to get my head kicked in on a Rugby pitch. Having a ritual to do would have made things worse, so I always just got ready as fast as possible and jogged out.
The match started and the suprisingly for the first ten minutes we seemed to be holding our own, except there was one problem. The guy was playing 7 called "stiggy" kept running in at hooker whenever we were on attack. Making me a bit of a bystander, the stupid thing was when we stopped for a scrum I asked him what he was doing. He looked at me completely confused "I always get the ball from the play the ball". I told him that the coaches had been bellowing for the last ten minutes to get him back to his own position as scrum half and I'd take the ball from the Ruck.
All sorted now, well actually no, because what I did next really ballsed things up right royally. My excuse is this was the first time I'd had my hands on a ball all day, I'd had one training session in 3 months and that was it. As I picked up the ball from the ruck and passed it, I completely got my technique wrong and ended throwing a ridiculously high looping pass to "stiggy".
Now it was a shite pass I'll not say it wasn't but "stiggy's" reaction was priceless, he theatrically leaped for the ball, missed and then went storming over to the coach. "What the feck is that, that was shite, get him off the pitch, he could have got me killed!" The opposition looked at this and burst out laughing, I would have too to be honest. I wondered across to apologise and explain it was a bit of rust, only for "stiggy" to take a swing at my jaw. About 5 minutes of scrapping later the ref decided he couldn't really send two players off from one team and decided to instead give us both a ticking off, the usual rubbish that I'd heard a few hundred times.
We're 15 minutes in, the opposition is now starting to run through the forwards for fun and whats more the coaches have now fallen silent. Bollocks to this, I thought I'm not going to keep running around trying to bust a gut for a bunch of players that would rather punch me than pass to me. For the next 65 minutes I did nothing but defence and take the odd drive in, I thought I'd get myself subbed that way and just bugger off home. But they decided to keep me on until the end, a resounding 78 - 0 thrashing which finished with a 4 man brawl....... once again just from my team scrapping with each other.
Now severely pissed off I told the lads that came with me to get a life home with someone else, paid my subs got changed and went straight back to my car. I'd come to release my frustration and anger onto the pitch, but I'd left worse than when I arrived. A quick glance in the mirror and I could see a shiner coming out, courtesy of "stiggys" awesome team play and as few scratches for couple of high shots I'd taken. The boss wasn't gonna be best chuffed with me in the morning, nor was the missus I'd had 3 missed calls from her already wondering how I'd got on.
I started the car, and drove straight home to ring my Brother to see how he'd got on. It took me about 45 minutes to get back, but it gave me plenty of time to decide that I'd had enough. My best days were behind me, most of my mates had stopped or pretty much stopped playing. I'd tried playing for a couple of new clubs but never settled in, rugby wasn't fun anymore it was hard work.
I put my boots, pads and gumshield in a bag at the bottom of the wardrobe, infact they're still there. Not moved in over a year and a half, and they'll probably only move when the missus finds them. She still hasn't figured out that the strange smell comes from my boots that I still can't be arsed washing.
Thanks for reading, my next blogs will go back to some of my best memories in amateur rugby league. Not all were as awful as this, infact most of my memories still make me laugh today. Subscribe to keep in touch or follow me on twitter - @4thchoicecentre
I'll share with everyone my experiences of Rugby League at the grass roots level, where its at its best and sometimes at its bloodiest. I've had some cracking laughs over the years as well as some down right shite moments to boot. However I'll speak it from my point of view, from how I saw it, whether people agree or disagree this is how I saw the sport and in particular the guys I played with and against.
So enough bleating this was the last time I ever strapped on my boots and went out to play the sport I love.
I'd decided over the summer to give winter Rugby once last chance, I'd played the last couple of seasons in the summer and had not particularly enjoyed it. So I thought I'd go out find a new team and go and play for them in the winter, someone really low down where I could just pitch up and chuck a ball about. I'd been to one training session with this team and I'd decided to play at 6 or 7. I was too old to play in the backs anymore, well actually thats bollocks reality was I too slow to play in the backs by this time and I was too small to be a forward.
I turned up at the meeting point on Saturday, got myself my usual Lucozade and jelly beans and waited in the pub for them to name the team. With about 25 lads they knocked it down to 17 and told me I was playing 9 for the game. A little bit confused as I'd never said I'd played 9 before and most of the forwards hadnt been to the training session I'd be at. But sod it, I wasn't there to be technical I just wanted a game.
We were playing away so a few of the lads jumped in the car with me and we all set off. About 10 minutes in everyone pulled in for some petrol and all the lads jumped out and went inside to grab some scran. A sat down on the bonnet of my car and just started doing the usual rubbish I'd be taught about concentrating on the game etc. About 15 minutes later we've still not set off, so I ambled over to the coach and asked him when we were setting off, we were already cutting it tight for kick off and now it was starting to take the piss. At this point I turned around and looked back at my car to see two of the lads stood next to it having a smoke!!! "Oi nobheads are you mental, you're in a petrol station." So right next to my car the pair of them did the most sensible thing and dropped them on the floor to stamp them out. Feck me I cringed waiting for everything to explode, how I didn't tish myself I don't know.
Crisis past everyone got chased back to the cars to head off to someplace in St Helens for our away game. As I thought we arrived with just enough time to throw our kit on and get out onto the pitch. I've never had a pre-match routine and days like this were the reason I don't. There's been too many times I've turned up at an away game with just enough time to tuck my bollocks into a pair of shorts and run out to get my head kicked in on a Rugby pitch. Having a ritual to do would have made things worse, so I always just got ready as fast as possible and jogged out.
The match started and the suprisingly for the first ten minutes we seemed to be holding our own, except there was one problem. The guy was playing 7 called "stiggy" kept running in at hooker whenever we were on attack. Making me a bit of a bystander, the stupid thing was when we stopped for a scrum I asked him what he was doing. He looked at me completely confused "I always get the ball from the play the ball". I told him that the coaches had been bellowing for the last ten minutes to get him back to his own position as scrum half and I'd take the ball from the Ruck.
All sorted now, well actually no, because what I did next really ballsed things up right royally. My excuse is this was the first time I'd had my hands on a ball all day, I'd had one training session in 3 months and that was it. As I picked up the ball from the ruck and passed it, I completely got my technique wrong and ended throwing a ridiculously high looping pass to "stiggy".
Now it was a shite pass I'll not say it wasn't but "stiggy's" reaction was priceless, he theatrically leaped for the ball, missed and then went storming over to the coach. "What the feck is that, that was shite, get him off the pitch, he could have got me killed!" The opposition looked at this and burst out laughing, I would have too to be honest. I wondered across to apologise and explain it was a bit of rust, only for "stiggy" to take a swing at my jaw. About 5 minutes of scrapping later the ref decided he couldn't really send two players off from one team and decided to instead give us both a ticking off, the usual rubbish that I'd heard a few hundred times.
We're 15 minutes in, the opposition is now starting to run through the forwards for fun and whats more the coaches have now fallen silent. Bollocks to this, I thought I'm not going to keep running around trying to bust a gut for a bunch of players that would rather punch me than pass to me. For the next 65 minutes I did nothing but defence and take the odd drive in, I thought I'd get myself subbed that way and just bugger off home. But they decided to keep me on until the end, a resounding 78 - 0 thrashing which finished with a 4 man brawl....... once again just from my team scrapping with each other.
Now severely pissed off I told the lads that came with me to get a life home with someone else, paid my subs got changed and went straight back to my car. I'd come to release my frustration and anger onto the pitch, but I'd left worse than when I arrived. A quick glance in the mirror and I could see a shiner coming out, courtesy of "stiggys" awesome team play and as few scratches for couple of high shots I'd taken. The boss wasn't gonna be best chuffed with me in the morning, nor was the missus I'd had 3 missed calls from her already wondering how I'd got on.
I started the car, and drove straight home to ring my Brother to see how he'd got on. It took me about 45 minutes to get back, but it gave me plenty of time to decide that I'd had enough. My best days were behind me, most of my mates had stopped or pretty much stopped playing. I'd tried playing for a couple of new clubs but never settled in, rugby wasn't fun anymore it was hard work.
I put my boots, pads and gumshield in a bag at the bottom of the wardrobe, infact they're still there. Not moved in over a year and a half, and they'll probably only move when the missus finds them. She still hasn't figured out that the strange smell comes from my boots that I still can't be arsed washing.
Thanks for reading, my next blogs will go back to some of my best memories in amateur rugby league. Not all were as awful as this, infact most of my memories still make me laugh today. Subscribe to keep in touch or follow me on twitter - @4thchoicecentre
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